Footsteps of a Shdow
by Observer Shade
Summary: "The shinobi died out long ago when the world ended. Ninety percent of life was destroyed, and few people know why. From the ashes, new civilisations arose." - history of the land, chapter 3. The world is ravaged now, and it hides secrets more terrible than the creatures that roam it. Still, I will find the truth. I gave up everything for this chance, and I don't intend to lose it.
1. Unanswered questions

They once told me that chakra was a link between body and soul. Chakra was what made _them_ what they were. A shinobi was as powerful as his mastery of the power that ran through his body, the power that was called the life force of everything. So I always asked myself, why were the shinobi the only creatures with the power to use it? Why were the creatures who were fast, agile and cunning the creatures who also employed chakra? They were already the perfect weapons, so why were others more suited to using it not taught the ways of chakra? Why did the shinobi take all of the abilities that should have been divided between many? Why could so many people act like elites of the highest class in so many skill sets? Surely not so many people can be simultaneously wise, strong, agile, cunning and able to use chakra. Very few people can be elites at everything today, maybe one in a thousand. Why could so many do it then?

Not that it matters now. We all try to forget the past now. You only survive here if you can remain totally obsessed with the present. Yet still, something has always told me to look towards the past, no matter how useless the knowledge of that time may be now. People like myself are called seekers. People who for some reason are obsessed with finding out how the world became like this. Still, maybe they had a point. I mean, maybe if I hadn't strayed from the village, I wouldn't currently be holding sure death ten inches away from my face.

The jaws of the beast slam together again, and again, and I only just manage to roll my head in one direction whilst pushing the jaws held in my left hand in the other. The damn thing is getting closer though, as this time I could literally feel its hair brush my face. This can't go on for much longer.

Left hand shaking, I somehow managed to hold the jaws away from my head whilst the vampwolf held me pinned to the floor with its forepaws. Again, it focuses its body weight on its head, and the thirty pronged cavern of death lurches towards my face. There is no way that I am going to be able to avoid it again by holding it at bay. The limited strength in my hand is already failing. Thinking quickly, I stop groping with my right hand for my bag, which had been thrown five feet from me when this thing had attacked, and dart up towards the thing's underbelly. Taking firm hold on my adversary's fur, instead of pushing like it expects, I pull it, sending the jagged teeth half a centimetre too high. Again, the vampwolf gets a mouthful of dust and dirt. But I am running out of tricks. Still, that little maneuver has somehow caused it to stop its assault for half a second.

I don't bother to wonder why it has stopped, only hope that my plan is better than its. With the small amount of breathing room that I have, I glance towards my bag, my right hand once again reaching for the salvation that lies within it. It takes me less than a second to realise that it is well out of reach. Then the vampwolf makes its move.

It's right paw kicks up suddenly, from where it was keeping me pinned, and before I have time to roll away, the vampwolf has the paw on my chest, placing its massive body weight directly on my heart. The shaggy grey mutt bears its yellow fangs at me, and while I can bearly concentrate on anything but the crushing pain in my chest, its left claw descends towards me.

The problem for it is that it now has freed my hands for me to use. I no longer have to use one hand to stop it. Have fun beating up that log my furry friend. See, the secrets of chakra were not lost with the death of the shinobi. A few people still can use it, even if not so proficiently as the shinobi used to. I learned a while ago how to use a few basic techniques, and I can pull off a basic body switch with any object in the area that I wish, given barely a fraction of a second and both hands. Don't bother asking what a log was doing in the middle of a wasteland, but for some reason there seem to be logs everywhere whenever I need a quick escape.

Ok, I bought myself one, maybe two seconds with that trick, and I intend to use them. My bag is still out of reach, so I may as well give up on this being a fair fight. The vampwolf is stronger, faster and tougher than me, and it has natural weapons of its claws and teeth. I have nothing beyond a measly amount of chakra ability that I think I may have already exhausted. So I guess playing fair is out of the question. Guess I'm going to have to improvise again.

My belt pouch is in shreds, and most of my more immediate equipment is strewn out across the wasteland, but I have a few pieces of wire, a rusty knife and a holding seal containing a thunderball. That's my name for a small, but quite heavy metal orb that I carry around with me everywhere. It's about twice the size of a grown man's fist, and you'd be surprised how useful these can be, for instance...

I take the thunderball from the seal, slot the knife up my left sleeve, deftly tie the end of the wire to the thunderball, and then round on the vampwolf with the ball clamped in both hands. This is going to require some doing. The thing is on me before I have finished turning towards it, and all I can do is to duck to avoid the beast's swing. (The ball is too heavy for me to perform anything really fancy whilst I am holding it). Damn, if the thing was faster than me when I wasn't holding the thunderball, it's now like a hawk hunting a snail. I can track it with my eyes, but I can only barely respond to its movement, as it darts round to my left, forcing me to continue my swing further than I would have liked in order to get anywhere near it. At the last moment, it ducks away, and my swing meets with nothing but air.

As I lose control of my swing, and the weight of the ball takes my balance from me, I realise that my plan had a few gaping holes in it. There probably wasn't a better plan, but still, now I'm back where I started, with a pair of gaping jaws coming towards me and I being pinned yet again on the floor.

That's what I am really hoping that my expression conveys to the vampwolf. If it doesn't think that I am beaten, then this simply will not work. A small seal pulses on the thunderball, and rather than jerk away like it expects me to, I reach directly into the vampwolf's maw. A muffled gulp of surprise escapes it as it realises that the thunderball is as hard as it is heavy, and I hear several short sounds, somewhere between a click and a crack. I've heard tales of what a vampwolf's bite can do, and I am quite impressed by the fact that somehow it has managed to crack the thunderball down the middle, even if its teeth are now cracked and chipped in many different places. Even so, the thunderball has done its job; the beast is down, unable to bear either the weight of the ball, or the pain of its cracked teeth. Some blood runs down from its maw into my eyes from a small gash in its mouth, but I ignore it, simply closing my left eye. My right eye is stronger anyway.

The next part of the plan will have to be done swiftly. I pull on the wire attached to the thunderball, pulling it taught and causing the wolf to howl in pain. Admittedly, I was rather hoping to be in a slightly better position than this when this moment came, but beggars can't be choosers. I drape the wire around the thing's front paws, then reach up and grab the wolf's fur again, once again pulling upwards, an pushing myself downwards towards its hind paws. The wire pulls taught, and just as I slide out from under the vampwolf, it trips on my wire, coming down hard on its heavily weighted maw, and once again whining in pain. Pulling the wire taught again, I swiftly weave the wire four times between its hind paws, before pulling it tight, pulling its hind paws together. A sturdy not in the wire should hold it for now, and the thunderball should hold it while I finish it off. Yes it sounds heartless to attack the beast when it is defenceless, but given enough time, it would escape, and I need my gear back.

The vampwolf must sence the impeding danger, since its fur begins to retract into its body. A clever plan, if it didn't have a thunderball in its mouth. I watch slightly mercilessly as it returns to its human form, shrinking to the point at which it could easily escape its bonds. I'm not worried. With the rest of its body, its jaw is also shrinking. It comes to this conclusion, and its eyes widen in fear, a muffled scream escapes from around the thunderball. For a second, I consider leaving it to this gristly death, but I'm not quite that heartless. A flick of my left wrist sends the knife sliding down my sleeve into my hand, and a swift strike to the back of the vampwolf's neck severs the nerves in the spinal column. It is dead before it has even registered any pain. I might be merciless at times, but I am not sadistic.

Wiping the blood from my eye, I methodically begin to carve out bits of flesh that can be eaten later. I never wanted to be a cannibal, but when you live as a seeker, you do what you have to, and my supply of food is growing low. That, and vampwolves are not technically totally human... I think. Then again, I have met many vampwolves who seem more human than humans do these days. I have no idea why this one attacked me, and there doesn't seem to be any way to find out. Maybe it simply viewed me as a threat. After all, a human this far from civilisation is quite rare. I could have been a threat for all it knew.

I shake my head. It doesn't really matter now. That was just my seeker's curiousity speaking, and I do not intend to risk my life any further searching for the answer to this question, and I am definitely not going to lose this lead. Judging by the sun, it is about the middle of the day. A saner person would look for shelter now, but I am on a tight schedule and I need to make up the time I lost fighting the vampwolf. Bearing my teeth against the sun, I head northwards, towards the answers. I barely spare a glance back at the dead vampwolf, but I do just about spare it a glance. Its dying reflexes caused it to continue changing when I removed the thunderball from its maw. The cumbersome thing was by then far too cracked to be of any use in the future, so I left it there. The wire on the other hand was still worth its weight in gold as far as I was concerned, so I removed that. The vampwolf's human form had surprised me a little.

Barely more than a boy, he was fair skinned and had three scars across his face. Hell, he was probably barely older than myself, although he looked slightly younger. I didn't bother to study his face. It wasn't important, and unnecessary information could slow me down when I needed necessary information most. That... and I didn't really want to remember his features.

I might live by the rules of this world, but I don't have to enjoy doing so.

Sparing the vampwolf only a glance, I hope that if there is an afterlife, it's better than this one. I hope that wherever he is, it's a more pleasant realm than this one. That's not too difficult is it?

I then rid all thoughts of the dead boy from my head, and resolutely set off North. This could be a long day.

My name is Gikyo, and this is the story of a world that shouldn't have been.

* * *

A/N: I know that this first chapter tells you very little about the story, but feedback of this part would be appreciated. If feedback is good, I will focus a little bit more on this story, and write it a little quicker. Anyway, please favourite, follow review, etc. If you like it, and review if you don't telling me why.


	2. Shades of what was

The world was ravaged before I was born. Perhaps that's why I'm so obsessed with looking for the past. There aren't many people alive who still remember it, and those that do are mostly insane now, so talking to them is a little difficult.

Then again, what is insanity but a different form of sanity? I mean, we probably all seem insane to the insane. I guess that I just have a natural feeling of closeness to the insane. After all, people decided that I was insane for years. If you see things that others can't, or if you think differently to others, then they call you insane and lock you away in a small room until your willpower is gone, and you can do little but drool, eat and sleep. That's when they say that you are gone beyond calling back. Yet still, I have seen "normal" people in those conditions. They don't take long to snap either. I wasn't originally named Gikyo, although nobody remembers my real name. I was called Gikyo, meaning noble deed, because I somehow managed not to shrink down to a drooling wreck in those conditions. The caretakers thought that I deserved the name for just that, a "noble" deed. What if insanity was just the next part of our evolution? What if this "insanity" was actually the human mind adapting to the scenario, making something that can survive in this world more efficiently. Not that it matters.

The point being that I spent the majority of the first eight years of my life in a small cell. Without anything else to do, I took to crafting things with my hands. At first it was simple things. Small figures of people whittled away from wood, and jagged balls that I would amuse myself with by throwing against the wall. Then I got more adventurous. I started trying to carve more defined shapes, making the edges smooth or jagged when I wished. The detail was broad, but it was there. The materials in my hands were turning into roughly what I wanted. By the time I was six, I could craft masterworks out of anything. Give me a stone and I would create a model hut. The "caretakers" loved to watch me work. Apparently it was a great break from the troubles of the rest of the area. But I also freaked the out the most. Staring at something that wasn't there, or talking to things that only I could see.

Sometimes I was only doing it to freak them out, but sometimes I really was talking to the shadowy figures that came and went as they pleased. They could do incredible things. I saw one once leap straight thirty or forty foot into the air, and hand there for ages laughing. I laughed too at that, although I wasn't quite certain what the joke was. The "shades" as I call them don't seem to be able to see us, and they don't always directly interact with our world. They walk through walls as if they weren't there, and they sometimes seem to interact with things that not even I can see. However, more often than not, when they look like they are scaling a wall, the wall is there. When they look like they are opening a door, although the door does not open, it is usually there. (It is usually then promptly walked through.) Also, they don't speak. I have never in my life heard a shade speak. I have seen their lips move, but never have any words come out. I have seen them talk to each other, but I have never heard the conversation.

When I was six, the caretakers started to think that it was possible that I wouldn't get any worse than my current condition, and so one of them started to teach me to read.

It was a weird experience to say the least. I was given a new book every time I finished the last one, reading about everything from history to science to fiction. I read about the shinobi of old too, and that was where I learned about chakra. I was a surprisingly quick learner, and already had a "reading age" of 15 by the time I was eight (whatever that meant). By that time, I had realised that some of the shades must be shinobi. After all, no normal person can run on walls or breath fire. I wondered for a time if they were ghosts of those powerful beings, but in the end I decided not to dwell too deeply on questions like that. I decided not to focus on things that I couldn't ever begin to answer. Instead, I spent time learning of chakra from them. It was difficult learning from mute teachers who were not always around and who didn't really want to show you what they knew, but slowly I began to realise that it was all in the hands. By the time I was eight, I had just figured out a few hand seals and was practising constantly. Also, by then, I was perhaps the greatest craftsman I had ever heard of. Having read a bit of chemistry, I could create almost anything from anything. I could forge full working contraptions from a rubber band and a chunk of wood. My cell was getting more and more interesting by the day. And then they let me out.

* * *

Apparently the soldiers had contacted the asylum, having heard of me. They wanted to use my skills, forge me into a weapon which could protect the village. Let's just say that knowledge gained totally from books and a view from a small window doesn't quite prepare you for the world.

The village was nothing special, but it was one of the few friendly places I have ever been in in this world. A barracks where the fifteen soldiers who protected the area stood at the centre, and otherwise everybody was simply wherever they needed to be to fulfil their roll. The asylum of five lunatics and three caretakers was near the edge of the village. However, I really didn't see much of the village during my time as a soldier.

It was clear from the beginning that life would not be much different, other than in place of books, I had rigorous training. I had no idea how out of shape I was. I hadn't done much exercise in my life, and I was really quite weak. The other soldiers, being soldiers trained to be aggressive, taunted me about this endlessly. I didn't really mind. I might have been scrawny, but they couldn't see shades, and I would rather be able to learn from them than have a muscle bound body any day.

After a year, it became clear that something was wrong. I fumbled the weapons handed me, even though I was no longer weak by any standards. I was not strong, but I could just about get by in a fight. Yet for some reason, I couldn't wield weapons other than my fists and my traps (which were getting better by the day). I usually had about seven traps on me at a time, and each one would usually incapacitate or weaken between one and three opponents. They rarely took me more than a minute to assemble, although disassembling them to the stage at which the components could be transported could be almost as tiring as making them.

It was then that one of the older soldiers had thoroughly observed me during a fist fight. It was nothing too serious. One of the other soldiers had tripped one of my traps. I hadn't meant for him to, but he had taken it personally. Not that it matters now.

Anyway, the older soldier had noticed something weird, and the next day he decided to test his theory. He handed me two throwing spikes (similar to shuriken that ninja used to use, but more rounded so that it doesn't matter what angle they strike at). He told me to throw one with my right hand, and one with my left. The first, thrown with my right hand, predictably was nothing special. Striking the crudely drawn target on the rim, it wouldn't have done anything more than distract any opponent in a real fight. The second however, thrown with my left hand, struck the target clean in the middle, and left a small dent where it had been thrown. The old soldier cocked back his head, and laughed.

"I can't believe we didn't see this earlier Gikyo," he said after I had recovered from the shock, "this is the sort of thing that we usually instantly pick up on."

Slightly confused, all I could really do was furrow my brow in question. After all, I had no idea what he was going on about, and had no wish to ask an inappropriate question.

"You're left handed my boy," he continued, "whereas most people find that they can do more with their right hands than their left, you can do more with your left hand than your right." He paused. "Well, this explains quite a lot."

Strangely, I had never read anything about being right or left "handed" when I was in the asylum, but what he said did make sense. When I made my contraptions, my right hand held the structure steady, while it was my left hand that had always crafted the fine detail.

* * *

The next few days were spent learning how to wield weapons using my left hand, how to fight my opponent when they are using the opposite side of their body. I was drilled at twice the rate that I was used to, but I was improving at over ten times that rate. Apparently, a left handed soldier could be twice as deadly as a right handed soldier, since very few people have any real experience defending attacks coming in from the wrong angle. I was still a scrawny black haired, green eyed child, but now I could at least fight on unfair terms with an opponent. I was only slightly stronger than the average person, and my muscles showed no sign of getting past this stage any time soon, but I did have several advantages that few people had. The older soldier died in an attack from a walking corpse a few days later (something which had shocked all of us, although the damn maggot covered thing hadn't died until we had cut it up beyond recognition, so that's what we called it), but from what I heard, he died with a smile on his face, (which few people in the village had ever seen him wearing) as he saw me take the blasted thing down with my left hand and a short sword.

Not that that matters now.

I never dreamed that I would become a seeker, self outcast because of my curiosity. I was happy enough where I was (or at least as happy as one could be in this world of death). There was a strange safety in ignorance of the world. Your world became the village, and anything that strayed within it. I knew nothing of the true turmoil of the world, and what I didn't know, rarely hurt me beyond the occasional creature wondering into the village and having to be dealt with.

I guess I would have gone on like that, if it weren't for the fact that I was beginning to spend more time than ever observing the shades. I was trying to figure out why chakra wasn't working for me. I could perform hand seals flawlessly, either right or left handed in case it made a difference. Yet for some reason, I couldn't get it to work like the shades did. I had read at least five books on the subject, all of which were tattered and mostly illegible, and then were too confusing to understand. Yet I gathered that chakra was some sort of life force. From that, I deduced that blood must be full of it. It took me a while to make the connection between chakra and the seals on exploding tags, but when I did, I berated myself for hours for not making the connection beforehand. It was obvious. Tales were that ninja were the one who created exploding tags, and that many specialised in crafting seals like them and channelling chakra through them, but for some reason, it had never occurred to me that the exploding tags that we used today were the same ones. After that, I pictured that there was an exploding tag on my wrist when I made seals and tried to detonate it. It worked a little, although I could never do anything really complex with it. However, that didn't really matter to me by the time I had figured this out. By then, learning to manipulate chakra had become a side project. My real interest now lay with the shades.

I had noticed a while ago that they seemed to live in a parallel world to ours, with some objects exactly how they should have been, and some objects out of place or not there in one world or another. But the similarities were enough to deduce this much. However, it wasn't until I really looked closely at them, that I realised that everybody in the village had one.

I don't mean that everybody in the village had a shade that followed them around or something, more that everybody had a shade that looked exactly like them. That was, everybody except for me. For some reason, I had never seen a shade that looked like myself, a short scraggly boy of about ten with black hair and searching, wild green eyes and fair skin. Alright, so I might not have been able to make out colours all of the time, but there wasn't even a time that I was doubtful of whether or not I had found my shade. I never saw it, there was no doubt.

It occurred to me at a later date that there were more shades than people. Whilst every person had a shade, there were three personless shades for every one who looked like somebody in my world. My curiosity had been sparked.

Now you may think that somebody who is curious about one thing does not necessarily gain an interest in other things instantly. But picture that you had spent your entire life obsessed with the facts and what you knew, not really caring to learn anything for the sake of learning, only learning if there was a purpose behind it. Now picture that something had suddenly sparked an interest in you.

All of a sudden, I realised just how much information there was that I did not know. I had never been outside of the village, never seen the outside world. The shades, I had never truly considered what they were. I had never really been interested by biology any more than to learn the weak spots of a potential enemy. I really didn't know what happened when two forces collided beyond that there was usually some damage done. So much information that I had never really wished to have, being content to focus on nothing but survival. But all of a sudden, I realised just how bland my life had been. Before, I had eaten nothing but tasteless material, and although the salt had always been there, I had never considered it. Then it had fallen into a meal, and I had realised just what I had been missing all of this time. I was instantly addicted to this new way of life. Even if it was to be the death of me, I was going to milk what I could from this life. Then, with curiosity, came hope. Maybe life wouldn't suck that badly after all. How wrong I was...

I reread all of the books that I had previously read in under a week, paying closer attention to everything, and not just what I could see as being useful to survival. Did you know that non chakra based explosions only happen because of the amount of energy released when bonds between atoms are formed. Basically, I became just as interested in the whys of the world as I was in the whats. If the other villagers had known what I was doing, they would have executed me there and then. I was putting myself and them at risk, but I didn't know that. By the time I was twelve, I had memorised every book in the village, and although I was not a great soldier, I was more resourceful than most of the other soldiers combined.

I didn't know when I left the village that I was starting down a pathway with no return. I made a pretence of renewing my old traps, but that wasn't the real reason behind my wishing to leave the safety of the village for a while. If I had known then what lay outside, I probably would have huddled down in a corner and never so much as set a foot outside. Possibly gone back to my nice safe asylum cell and spent the rest of my life drooling at a few coloured blocks. But I didn't know that I was gambling with more lives than my own, or just how dangerous curiosity could be. My nurse gave me one last check up, and handed me a small bag full of food.

"Now you make sure that you're careful Gikyo" she said, fussing over me.

"Yes maam" I muttered. She tilted her head to the side, not quite certain of why I would be using such a formal answer. I had actually been trying to tell a joke, but being so narrow minded as most people, it had gone right over her head.

I didn't bother to explain. It would have been more effort than it was worth. I simply stepped out of the village, and towards my doom. A few shades walked with me for a time, and then I was alone. Not that I was that worried. I was certain that I would be returning soon, I just had to take a look at the world beyond the swamp that had become my dwelling for my entire life. Curiosity, apparently, has killed many small furry animals. It is also the undoing of many a seeker and their village.

What I was about to do was far from a noble deed. There is not much that is as dangerous as a seeker before they have learned the ways of the world.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the chapter being a little more "telling" than "showing", although can I also say that I am very very grateful for the so far positive feedback that this tale has had. Updates are going to stop for a while, although I will get back to this tale within the month. Sorry, but other commitments come first. Anyway, thanks for reading and all of that, and please review favourite, follow, etc. I don't get much feedback, so every little bit is greatly appreciated.


	3. The herb that heals all wounds

I shake my head. This is hardly the time or place to be considering the past. I will have plenty of time to do that when I reach the next settlement, but for now I need to focus. Judging by the second sun, I only have about a quarter of a day left, and I've never been the fastest mover in the world. Grudgingly, I pump a little of my precious supply of chakra into my limbs and move a little quicker, allowing the bleak scenery to pass over me as I focus simply on moving north. I'm dimly aware of a shade moving along to my right, before it weaves off to the left, passing right through me as it does so.

For a second I consider dropping my baggage and the weight that comes with it, perhaps moving a little quicker. But if I did that, I would be all but defenceless. Life's hard enough without throwing away your resources. Nope, I'll take my chances and hope for the best. The suns have moved a little through the sky by now, but I've made good time so far, even if I am taking a massive risk by exhausting myself with this running. I'd be in no shape to... well that's not good.

* * *

Once, just once, could things please go my way? That's not too much to ask is it? I come to an abrubt halt, swinging my arms wildly to keep my balance. Quite how shinobi managed to move in a coordinated way at those speeds, I don't know, since it takes me about two or three leaps to slow down at all without using even more chakra to anchor myself in place (maybe that's the key, but if so, their chakra reserves must have been almost endless, or else I'm doing something else wrong). After three leaps, I realise that I'm not going to stop in time, so I don't bother taking another leap, I simply let myself fall face first into the cracked Earth, sending the world reeling. My orientation goes as the sky becomes the floor, and my left becomes up. After about three bounces (although it might have been more, it's actually quite hard to tell), I begin to float, and I wonder why I am not falling towards the sky. I lie there for a few moments, slightly confused and determined not to think about the impossibility of the fact that I am floating before I realise that in fact I am not floating at all.

Wow, I never knew that being sent so far end over end could be so disorientating. I allow myself a few seconds to let myself consider this, and then I remember why I had to come to such an abrupt halt. Two encounters in one day. Wow, usually I don't see so much activity out here. Grogily I get back to my feet and reassess the situation. Right now, disorientated as I am, I am questioning whether or not it would have been better to just keep moving and hope for the best. Then again, with such a large fight, it really was in my best interests to stay clear.

I look back towards the fight in front of me where five figures were battling three others. I must have moved further than I thought when I stumbled, since I can now make out the specifics of the battle, although I half wish that I couldn't.

I am just in time to see a creature with the head of a baby with gouged out eyes, gruesomely stitched upside down onto the head of a dog cleaved clean in half whilst making noises similar to a dying insect. It's killer, a bear like animal with the hands of a human woman, (wielding a crude hatchet) moves onto its next opponent, a creature looking a bit like an oversized spider, which is currently locked in combat with a being seemingly comprised solely of black water with one of the spider's legs drifting around inside of it. Many more bodies, disfigured beyond recognition litter the ground around the area. Not bothering to look too deeply at these, I turn away. This isn't my business, and I don't really want it to be. There doesn't seem to be any available cover to use, and the sky is quite clear, which means that if I want to pass, I should probably backtrack and then skirt around the battle from a safe distance whilst the two sides hack each other to pieces. It will be annoying and time consuming, but it's a far better option than getting involved. Damn it, I really didn't need to be wasting time here. I barely have any time left. No, if I am going to make it, I can't afford to backtrack. I stare at the ground for a second to compose myself, then set off at a run, retrieving two knives from my belt as I go.

A strangely human scream echoes as the spider like creature kills sinks its fangs into the bear. I vault over a lifeless body and roll to the left, attempting to skirt the battle as best I can. Some thick gooey substance sticks to my hand when I do so, and instantly, the stench of burning flesh can be smelt. My left hand blisters and swells, and I drop the knife, hissing in pain. Either the creature that I vaulted over has acidic blood, or I'm in real trouble. I'm going to hope for the first. Still running, I grab a vial from my belt and apply a small amount of ammonia (most people carry acids, but I have always preferred alkalis for just this reason) to the wound. Either this will neutralise the acid, or it will burn my hand off. Either way, immediate problem solved. Thankfully, the burning sensation begins to be coupled with an intense amount of heat, meaning that a neutralisation reaction is taking place.

I'll assess the damage on my hand later, as the spider has just broken off from its fight with the swamp creature and is coming towards me at an alarming rate. Since I have a vial of ammonia in my right hand anyway...

Once, just once. That's all I ask. Just once could these things go my way. The spider walks right into the spray of concentrated alkali, and although it is hissing all over, it doesn't really seem to notice. Damn. I take off again, straight towards the centre of the battle, where a being that seems to be made up of nothing but raging winds is fighting a being that seems to be a being made of fire. Both are roughly humanoid, although their forms are fluid, changing as the battle requires. The spider scuttles after me, emitting a sound like the scream of a woman. A long hairy leg sweeps towards me, and I dive forwards, hit the floor and roll right, as the spider runs right over me and raises its fangs. My right hand darts out at the nearest leg and the brittle exoskeleton of the spider gives way under the force of the swing, allowing my knife to cut cleanly through the flesh beneath and right out the other side. I continue rolling up into a crouch, as the spider stumbles, attempting to put weight on a limb that has suddenly gotten shorter. I jab upwards into the creature's thorax, inwardly cursing at the fact that my left hand is so badly injured. For a second I contemplate the irony of the dead creature being just as much of a nuisance as the live one, and then I focus on the life or death situation at hand.

Whilst the creature thrashes to try to dislodge the knife, I take a firm hold of it with both hands, gritting my teeth against the pain in my left. I then pull the knife downwards, creating a wide gash in the spider's underbelly. I get splattered by entrails, and my skin begins to sizzle. Once, just once.

Guess that alkali I threw at it was not going to help me at all, since a small amount of it has just fallen into my hair. If you have ever had your head slowly crushed by a giant creature while they simultaneously tickle your exposed brain, you are probably somewhat aware of the sensation of having an alkali burn through your scalp. If not, let's just say that it's not an experience that should be replicated by any person with even a small amount of sanity. It doesn't help that the spider also collapses on top of me.

All I can do is lie there under the collapsed spider, writhe and scream as the alkali slowly is used up. My hands scratch at my scalp, and they start to burn too, although I hardly care anymore. My world has been reduced to a pulsing red mass of pain.

Then, as abruptly as it started, the whole thing stops. My vision slowly returns, and the pain subsides. All around me is black, although I can feel the hairs of the spider seemingly moving under my skin. Is the thing dead yet? I don't know, but I have to assume the worst. Slowly, I pull myself out from under the spider, noticing how it hasn't moved. I am covered in gore, and my gear might be worse for wear after this, as well as the fact that I am badly injured, but the worst thing is that I have lost a good few minutes. Precious minutes that might just make the difference between reaching my lead and missing it.

Beyond the spider, the battle is still raging. Three more creatures now lie in unrecognisable forms of death, and one is nowhere to be seen, but two of them are still locked in combat. However, that's not really my concern anymore. I am already more involved than I would like to be, and I have more than enough to show for it. My legs, surprisingly, have yet to be even scratched. Although the rest of me is looking worse for wear. I'll assess the damage when time is on my side, but for now, I simply set off at a run again. A man in white knee length coat steps into my way, his face covered by a blood spattered white mask. I hadn't even noticed that one of the combatants was a human until now. I run head first into him, and we both go sprawling. I yell out in pain after landing on my tender burnt flesh, but surprisingly he yells out all the louder, rage, fear and indignation ring through his scream of surprise. I'm up first, while he curses. I don't bother to look back, even as three needles, dripping with what looks to be the blood of the creature that burnt my left hand fly by my head. Maybe I'll regret getting involved one day, but for now, I don't have the time to finish what I have started. North... That's where the answers that I have been searching for all my life may lie. But judging by the sun, they aren't going to stay there for much longer. I grit my teeth and block out the pain as my body cries out in protest to being pushed again. I experimentally push a little chakra into my limbs, and almost instantly wish that I hadn't, as the cracked earth almost instantly rushes up to greet me.

Is the knowledge really worth it? I had thought at the time that the first fall was a pretty bad fall as falls get, but even half of that impact is a hundred times worse with burns all over my body. The answer to my question of course, is yes. I didn't kill all of my village and risk my life a dozen times just to give up at this moment. However, finally my mind gives way to the overload of pain, and rather than just lose my orientation like before, I lose every sense. Although contrary to popular belief, the world does not go black. It just sort of... fades.

* * *

A/N: I know what I said, but I couldn't help it. Thanks to Bleached Kitty for the encouragement to date, and thank you to the other guy who favourite the story. Without the encouragement, I would probably not have posted this chapter for quite a while. Anyway, I should probably focus on other things for a while now, but no promises.


	4. Sweet childhood memories

A bag of rations from a nurse, a cheerful wave and a joke that is totally missed... A younger me shakes his head incredulously and sets off to check on his traps. What's going on, didn't I...? Damn it, I know what happens next! Why can't I do anything but go where my feet lead me and say what I said before? Not again, no not again. Why do I have to go through this again?

I pass a hollow tree stump, my first marker. It takes me half a second to locate the older trap. I take the new replacement from my pack and begin to replace the older version, noticing how springs have become rusted and how wood has rotted. The trap is in desperate need of replacement. It takes me about seven minutes to fully replace the trap, and I take the other trap a little way away from the other before discarding the useless components and placing the redeemable parts back in my pack. I then set off to the east.

I scream inwardly at myself. Go north, south, west, anywhere but east. I want to beat myself into unconsciousness. Why do I have to see this again? Before, I had the ability but not the knowledge to stop what was about to happen. Seeing myself move obliviously towards my fate is torture. I now have the knowledge to stop myself, but my limbs won't listen. Maybe it was better being oblivious... For all of my skill, for every step that I have made in growing stronger since then, I can't even stop a scrawny twelve year old from walking down a path. I want to sit down, cry, and maybe shake in fear. But all I can do is place one foot in front of the next, and whistle. I don't remember whistling, but I guess I must have. Was I really that oblivious to what could happen? Yes, yes I was. I was a seeker without knowledge, and an inexperienced, young one at that.

Another trap, another seven minutes of focus to dismantle and replace it before salvaging it for reusable parts. Why can't I make myself move, why can I only do what I did then? I have seen creatures with hypnotic stares, causing their victims to be totally enthralled and often oblivious as they are swallowed whole. Hell, I've even been on the receiving end of one of them once. This is even worse. Rather than screaming at yourself to move, I am screaming myself not to do things, yet all I can do is to move one foot in front of the next, not even able to overcome myself with willpower, because my thoughts keep getting confused with my younger self. Young, inexperienced, yet familiarly curious thoughts. Dreams of the outside world, a longing to know everything. "You don't want to know! You don't want to pay the price of that knowledge!" I cry inside my head, but my younger self dismisses these thoughts as vague fantasies and continues onwards.

I was once paralysed by a man showing me visions of my death, but then I could shiver and sweat in fear. I could let my eyes go wide and I could silently scream with my jaw slack. Now I can only watch my body being overly cheerful. It's a hundred times worse. The gut churning wrongness just makes me want to throw up or do something even more disgusting. Yet I can't. I hate this, really hate it. Yet my twelve year old mind continues to think cheerfully about the future. "Don't you see? There is no happy ending out there? Don't start to play the game, you won't like the rules!" I dismiss these thoughts as soon as I have them, of course the outside world will be harsh, but there must be something out there worth finding. Maybe I'll find something to explain the shades. Now that would be awesome. Nothing bad can happen whilst I have my left hand and half a handful of trap components. I continue to whistle, a cheerful tune filled with hope and wonder. That's all I can take. My older consciousness sinks into a wave of despair.

Finally, I'm done with the traps and I can get on with my real purpose for coming out. Now I come to it, I'm really not that certain of how to start. Do I just pick a direction, or do I go to the furthest point I know and start from there? Hmm, maybe I should go back to the village and consider this a little bit more fully "Yes! Do that!" yells one part of my mind, but my logical side tells me that if I go back, I may never get the opportunity to come back again. "So, what have you lost?" says that annoying voice in the back of my mind. The answer of course, is clear. If I don't go, I will spend the rest of my life wondering what may have been outside, and that distraction may be a larger threat than whatever lurks outside. With this argument, my mind is set on this course of action. I'm left handed, and west is the left point of a map, so I may as well go west. For some reason, I feel like crying for a moment. Probably the magnitude of what I am about to do just caught up with me. I scratch my nose, and head west, fatally unaware of what lies beyond the relative safety of the village. Now where did that last thought come from? I may not know for certain what lies outside the village, but those creatures must come from somewhere. What if I find where the people they drag off are now? What if I am able to save some of them? Won't something like that be worth the risk?

For some reason, for half a second, I feel like emitting a noise of despair, but the urge quickly passes. Note to self, have one of the asylum caretakers diagnose me again when I get back to the village. I think I might be going even more insane. It takes me a good few minutes before I reach the edge of the area that I know. I set up a trap here just in case things go badly. "It won't work." Again, I dismiss the negative thoughts. Creativity has always been my weapon, and it doesn't come from thinking negatively. It takes me a minute to set up the trap, and so I reason that I have abut twelve minutes to explore around before I have to head back or else have people in the village grow a little suspicious.

I steel myself, and then walk forwards. One way or another, I am not going to be going back until I have learned something worth knowing.

It takes me barely two minutes to clear the swamplands around the village. Surprisingly, the wet earth gives way directly to a cracked, dry ground. Hmm, something to think on later. For now, I spare it a curious glance and then carry on. I don't have much time out here, and there is still so much to find out. Why can't I stop this? Why do I have to... hmm, I definitely need somebody to diagnose me again, preferably sooner rather than later. Anyway, there's nothing of real interest here. I stand up from investigating the ground, and head out again.

It is another t minutes before I notice anything else beyond how much hotter it is here. My water ran out a little while ago, but if things get really bad, I can just head back. Heading back is the furthest thing from my mind though, especially as I have just seen a speck in the distance. Now I know that the creatures that attack the village must come from somewhere, so I draw a knife with my right hand, and a throwing spike with my left. I then proceed slowly, cautiously. My heart is beating at a rate I have never felt it go at before. Being simultaneously nervous, excited and terrified at the same time is a weird combination. Also, for some reason, my fear is not accompanied by an equal amount of resolve as normal. Usually when something scares me, I simply become resolved to beat that ting to a pulp for scaring me like that. Now... for some reason, I don't even feel resolved to find the truth again. Why is that? Is it that stupid voice in the back of my head again?

Four shades run past me at an alarming rate, arms reached behind them. I watch for a moment as they move off into the distance, and spare them a wondering glance. Gosh, everything seems so new today. I wonder where they're going in such a hurry. It doesn't really matter I guess, although it would still be interesting to know. Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I slowly advance on the speck in the distance.

The screams strike me first. Desperate screams of agony that leave my ears ringing, and my teeth grinding. For a second, I pause again to consider the wisdom behind my curiosity, but ultimately I know what I did, and I know what I must do. Slowly, I carry on, with just a little more caution. There is no cover out here, so the trick to getting close to the speck without it noticing me is going to be to hope that it hasn't noticed me yet, and then to come up behind it when I get close enough to distinguish just where behind it is. The screams still continue every step of the way.

The speck is actually two figures. One is on the ground writhing and screaming. The other is hunching over the first, doing something that causes blood t fly every so up often. I decide to come up behind the second figure for the time being. As I get closer, I notice features. Both figures are human, although one of them wears normal survival gear, (a loosely fitting set of clothes to allow for maximum movement, reinforced with a layer of leather underneath). The other, the one seemingly torturing the other is wearing a white knee length coat, and a white mask splattered with the first figure's blood. The man on the floor screams one last time as I approach, then lays still. The white figure wipes his bloody hands on his coat, and then pulls out some weird looking utensil from one of the coat's many pockets. I strafe around to the side, making sure that I can see what is happening without being seen. I am just off being directly behind the man. After all, if he gets an inclination that he is being watched, that will be the first place that he will look. Not only that, but I don't need him obstructing my view of what is going on. I feel the other part of me tremble in fear at the white man, but the rational part of my brain again tells me that there is no chance that he has seen me.

I watch in fascinated horror, as the white coated man opens a gash in the man's chest and then reaches into the wound. I stifle a scream as his victim struggles slightly. Finally, the white coated man withdraws his hand and skilfully sews up the wound. I should have gone ages ago, but I want to find out what happens next. This is the first chance of any of us finding out what happens outside the village, and when I return, it will no longer be without information that could be useful to our survival. The white coated man stands up, and once again wipes his bloody hands on his lab coat.

"Rise eight three nine, your troubles are over." He raises a hand dramatically towards the sky as he says this. His victim, in response, sits up and in a voice that sounds like two large rocks grinding together, he says,

"Eight three nine... Is that my name? And who are you?"

"I am your creator, and your future master. Obey me, and you will help me to change this world."

"Master? I have no master."

"No, I created you eight three nine, and I can undo you just as easily. If you will not follow my cause then you will at least follow your own. I take it that you do not wish to leave the world so soon after coming into it."

I notice only now that the man is in fact Gaara. He was a man from my village, but until now, I hadn't recognised him behind the mask of blood and stitches. I again only just stifle a gasp of panic He pauses for a moment, and then replies, "Very well... master. May I enquire who your young apprentice is?"

" Apprentice? I have no apprentice. What are you talking about eight three nine?"

I have already begun to creap away. Any moment now, I will have to run for my life. For a second, I realise that I quite possibly could have placed a blade between the shoulder blades of the white coated man and then told Gaara, no eight three nine, that he was free if he did not attack me. But I am only twelve. Since when was a twelve year old able to think of every option in the span of a few seconds?

"Then who is the boy behind you?"

That's my cue. I don't bother to listen to the reply, I simply begin sprinting back towards the swamp, towards safety and towards home. Something stings my leg as I run, but I ignore it. To hell with my curiosity. I will never leave the village again. I've seen more than enough.

"It's not over" speaks the negative part of my mind, and for once, I listen to it. A jackal like howl echoes behind me, and for the first time in my life, I know real fear. There is no resolve with this fear, just a mind numbing terror that lets me do nothing but run.

"Too late" mutters the negative part of my mind. "You can't change the past," and then after a sort pause, it mutters, "I'm sorry." For half a second, I feel like crying, and then the fear comes again, and my world becomes a whirl of boggy ground, long grasses and a longing to be home.

* * *

A/N: wow, this chapter was done quickly, and I really should be doing other things, but I can't help it (meh, it's not like I can be doing anything else in the time that I use to write this). Anyway, please rate, comment and review. Also, just to let you know, Gikyo did not recognise the man in the white coat that he met in the earlier chapter.

P.S. If you are interested in betaing this, pm me.

P.P.S. Due to the good response to this story (compared to my other tales), I am going to be focusing on this more than the others for a while. If I get any more feedback for them, then I will write a bit more of them, but for the time being it is getting a little difficult to write them without any feedback at all. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this tale so far.

P.P.P.S. and with this, we break the 10000 words barrier. Now on to the next search criteria.


	5. Methods

5. Methods  
"Kid... Kid... He's still out cold sir."

"Well then keep trying to wake him. I need him conscious, and I don't have much patience."

Something is shaking me. What if I don't want to return to consciousness eh? What if I don't want to see what the burns have done to me? What if I have just had to relive the most painful memory of my life, and I am not overly happy about it right now.

"Come on kid... please wake up already. Please, or I'm in real trouble."

Not my problem you weird voice thing, and hardly something I really care about right now. I just killed an alkali dripping giant spider. I think that I am entitled to... wait, how long have I been out? Maybe I can still make it!

I jerk myself awake, instantly assuming that the first thing I see will be hostile (I can apologise later if I'm not dead). My left hand snakes out towards the nearest throat and... it doesn't. What's going on? My head swivels left and right as I try to clear the haze around my vision. I seem to be lying on a fur bed of some kind. And my hands are tied to it...

"Ah, excellent," mutters the second voice, "Nine four one, leave us now."

Well this can't be good. Unfortunately, there really is nothing much I can do, bound to a flat table and crouched over by a man wearing a white coat, and a new, not yet blood stained white mask. At this proximity, I can make out some more of his features. He is slim, with bleached white skin and purple eyes like mine, the mark of somebody who has spent too long exposed to this world. The rest of him is concealed by the coat and mask (assuming that this is indeed a male, he sounded like one, but I have seen weirder things). His eyes are the thing that I draw hope from. If he has purple eyes, then he has seen the things that I have seen and done at least some of what I have done. Maybe he too is a seeker, just one who never joined us. Or maybe...

"I can tell that you search, for one with those eyes can never hide what they are," I mutter, hoping for a second that he is indeed a seeker and knows our code for identifying friends.

"Search I may, yet finding and searching are different things. Your eyes as well speak of one who is discontent with ignorance."

"Discontent, perhaps, but maybe I would have been content without this path."

"Such is the way of the seeker. Did you lose much for your curiosity?"

"I have lost and gained everything for this path."

"And have you seen what you wish for your sacrifice?"

"I have seen far too much, and yet not enough. Yet still I search, and still I hope."

"Then I wish you the best of luck, brother in cause."

For a second, we both pause. Then we both cock back our heads and laugh at the sky. I continue laughing with relief, and my every chuckle causes him to laugh all the harder.

"You thought I was a seeker..." he cries, wiping tears from his eye.

I stop laughing, and he does likewise a few seconds later. The silence seems to resonate around the room, louder than our guffawing had been.

Well this isn't good. Now I am really confused, but I am pretty far from a friend.

"Who the hell are you then?" I mutter.

"I am, by your standards, a seeker. Or at least, I was. I am one who searches for the truth about this world, but my methods and yours are different. You won't know what this means, but I am what is called a scientist, and I am very happy to meet you nine six two."

What do I say to that? There is nothing I really can say. I don't know who he is, or what I am doing here, and I doubt he would tell me if I asked, so I settle for a rather weak attempt at conversation.

"When can I leave then? I don't see why you are holding me here."

He chuckles again. I'm not certain I get the joke, but then again, most people don't get mine. Maybe he has already found what I search for, and is already a full step ahead of me in all respects. Maybe...

"Nine six two, you are not allowed to leave this area until I say so. I have never had a seeker to use before. You should be a most valuable servant when I am done with you. Possibly even worth the one you killed and the disrespect you did me by knocking me to the floor. By the way, don't both to thank me for sorting out your ammonia burns. I wouldn't have done it if there was nothing in it for myself."

"Alright, a few things. Firstly, my name is Gikyo, not nine six two. Secondly, I am hardly going to become your servant, I sort of have my own agenda. Thirdly, I am on a tight schedule here, so if you would mind just releasing me and telling me where I am, then I can get going and we can forget that we met each other, probably better for both of us. Fourthly, thanks for fixing my burns..." The outburst is probably unwise, but it makes me feel a little better given the situation. Plus, it may speed up matters, and time is far from on my side.

"If you are looking for the mystik vault, then it has already moved on," he says, turning his back on me. He probably doesn't need to see my reaction. If I wasn't strapped to a slab, then I would find a convenient wall and bang my head repeatedly against it. A shade regards me for a second, and then walks off down a non-existent staircase in the floor. I'm not certain if this man is an enemy or friend or neither yet, but I still don't need him to see me lose my cool. The stronger I appear to be, the better as far as I am concerned. I simply shake my head.

"Well that's a lot of wasted work."

"No, not wasted. Your work has now brought you to my attention, and soon you will indeed be willing to serve me. They all are in the end."

With that, he formed a few hand seals, nothing like anything I'd ever seen before. I didn't have time to contemplate it though, as my world was once again whisked back to my childhood. To the days that I prefer not to dwell on any more.

* * *

I stumble as I run, my foot caught in a particularly thick patch of leaves. Undisciplined with fear, I simply tug at the reeds, getting my foot more and more tangled by the moment, and wasting precious seconds before I pull it clear. In retrospect, it would probably have been faster to simply untangle it, but I'm in a panic. Logical reasoning is far beyond me. I charge blindly onwards, water and mud splattering me with grime, and a few drops hit my eyes, but other than to close them, I don't bother to stop. The water and mud weigh me down, but again, logical reasoning is beyond me. I may have vague memories of setting a trap to prevent pursuit, but I panicked and ran right by it without bothering to utilise it. In fact, I don't even know if I'm still being pursued, and dare not look back. It would probably be faster to remove the grime from my eyes and to move a little more carefully so as to avoid becoming water logged and filthy, causing my clothes to slow me with both weight and stiffness, but I do not have the reasoning or the courage of a seeker yet. I'm just a scared boy, curious admittedly, but scared beyond his curiosity.

I stumble again, and fall, creating more of a sloshing noise than a splash as I collide with the swamp water. I wallow through it for a few seconds, trying to regain my feet. I turn onto my back, certain that what was once Gaara will be less than a few feet away, with a knife over his head, swinging towards my throat, but there is nothing. I glance around, still feeling like a hunted creature, until I eventually convince myself that eight three nine is indeed not about to jump out of a shadow and slit my throat. Slowly, in case he is still around, I get up and begin to make my way home, as quietly as possible. I've seen enough of the outside world for now, and maybe my curiosity will come back again, maybe it won't, but for now, I never want to set a toe outside the village again. I never want to leave the closest thing to a family that I ever had (come to think of it, I never did find out who my mother was. Perhaps finding that out will be a less dangerous way of satisfying my curiosity).

The journey is uneventful, a fact that I am glad of. Gaara,no eight three nine seems tohave given up, although I still can't stop myself from expecting him to jump out of every shadow or from behind every branch with some sharp object plunging towards my throat. Or worse, he could drag me back to his master, allow him to do to me what he did to Gaara. The thought sends a few shudders through me, and I quicken my pace, eager to be home. Some part of me is crying, although I don't think it is from fear or grief for Gaara. For some reason, I have the horrible feeling that what I am doing will lead to the deaths of everyone, but I soon disregard the thought. The future is mine to do with what I wish. I cannot predict it, and I can change it. Saying such things as certainty is just being foolish. I'm ashamed of myself for a second, that thought was unreasonable even for a panicked boy like me. Then that too passes, and I am nothing but a scared boy attempting to get home as quickly as possible, whilst giving every shadow a wide birth. Why do there have to be so many shadows in a swamp? Even though I know that half of them are trapped (by yours truly), it doesn't stop me from fearing them. I've lost track of time. Have I run past the village? Am I lost? If I'm lost now, there is nothing but to keep going, and hope that I run into the village. After all, better that than risk eight three nine catching me if he is on my tail.

And then, as if from nowhere, it's over. I stumble through the filth of the swamp, clear two tree stumps, and find myself in the outskirts of the village. Still not stopping, I keep running until I reach the very centre of the small settlement. Then finally, logical reasoning manages to get a word in edgeways. Surely if it was after me, somebody would have noticed the malformed Gaara by now. No, I think that I am safe. Cautiously, I come to a stop and glance around. There is indeed no twisted pursuer and no man with a bloodstained mask anywhere in the vicinity. I'm safe. I'm actually safe. I repeat the message a few times to myself before finally allowing myself to calm down. I'll have nightmares for weeks now, but I can deal with those when they come.

I finally realise just what a weird scene I've just made of myself. The whole town's probably in high alert after seeing me charge through the streets wildly as if pursued by a creature more terrifying than death itself. I can just picture it now... the soldiers all arrayed around the outskirts of the village by now, waiting for an enemy that will never come. It would be funny if it weren't so embarrassing. Three people are leaning over me, where I currently have my head to the floor. When did I bend over and do that? I honestly don't remember... weird. One of them is my nurse, the other is the village medic, and the last is somebody that I've seen around, but never really got the name of, or bothered to figure out what they do. Hah, for all of my curiosity, I never bothered to find out such a simple and accessible piece of information. The more I think about what I have done, the more I feel embarrassed about my stupidity.

"Gikyo... Gikyo..."

My nurse is trying to get my attention. Do I want to acknowledge? I guess the answer is yes… if not for my self or my sanity (which I lost ages ago), then for the people here, who I feel deserve something in return for all of those years that they simply sheltered me in an asylum rather than leaving me to the whims of the world and not burdening themselves with me. I owed them something for that, and I couldn't repay it if I allowed myself to go dead to the world again. Just because the world was so harsh when I went out to find something about it, does not mean that I should get rid of my curiosity to an extent that it no longer exists, and to the point that I drown out every bit of the world. No, I'll stay in this world and make sure that it is at least liveable for my fellow villagers. I knew the world would be difficult, so really nothing has changed other than my resolve. Still, what does one say to explain that they have just illegally left the swamp to do nothing more than satisfy curiosity, and that they were running from a phantom. How the hell do I try to explain that one? The truth isn't an option. They don't need to know what I did, but I do need to reassure them that there is nothing there. The other me that seems to have been around in my head tells me to tell them everything, but that's ridiculous. If I do that, they will brand me insane again and then put me in a position from which I will not be able to help them again (probably becoming a burden). In the end, I settle for a simple

"Sorry."

Rather than saying "what do you mean?" or "what for?" as many people would, my nurse simply hugs me to her chest.

"There there, it's alright now. Now what happened Gikyo? What's scared you like this?"

Gosh she's amazing. I guess she knows that an answer like that will stop me from getting even more confused. Don't fight a mind that is already confused, flow with it and it will work itself out. That's why she's the one dealing with us insane I guess.

"I… met Gaara," I say, allowing myself to slowly process every single word. The situation is confusing enough without having to conceal part of the truth, "only it wasn't him. He was… twisted. Changed. A bit like that walking corpse that killed the old guard that we had. He tried to kill me, and after running for a while I guess that I lost him, even if I didn't notice it. Sorry for being so childish." I regain my feet, disregarding the hand being offered from somewhere. "There should be nothing to worry about now. He probably got trapped in one of my contraptions."

My nurse smiles, relieved, and somebody else goes off to relay this information to the guard. Life will soon be back to normal. Yes, that's what I can focus on; learning new ways to keep the village safe. Normality… seems almost weird to think of it now, but life will go on, whether I like it or not. I guess that that's a good thing. Maybe when I'm stronger and older, when I have learned all I can here, I will head back to the outside world, to learn where these creatures come from. And then I will probably die trying to combat the source. Yes, that is how I will repay my debt to my village. If I manage to stop them at the source, then all of their problems will be solved. If I die then I will have repaid my debt, giving back to the village what they gave me… my life. Still, that's a long way off and will probably never happen. I'm fantasising again I guess. I really have to stop that.

No, for now, what I can do is to make sure that I learn what I can without putting the village at risk or through unnecessary worry. I will hone my curiosity into a weapon, as I learn and learn and learn, until my knowledge alone can keep the village safe from danger and worry. It shouldn't have taken a close encounter with the horrors of this world to show me this, but now I know my true calling.

It is only a week later, when the blood starts to flow and the screams fill the air that I realise just what a terrible thing I have done.

* * *

Author's Note: and here is the next chapter of this. The response to this so far has been really really good, so thanks to all of you for that (I never really expected to make it big time, so for me this is better than I expected). So anyway, I am searching for a beta for this, so if you are interested, drop me a pm, and if you are not but simply like (or dislike) the story, drop me a review please. Otherwise, thanks for reading this amateur piece of fiction so far, and thanks to all who reviewed. It is what keeps me going at quite moments alone in my corner while I gibber about how I don't want to write any more, (and then one of my characters grabs me by the scruff of the neck and chains me to a chair until I document more of their life).


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